Bella or Cinderella?
by Still-Obsessed
Summary: All Human Oneshot. EPOV; Occurs in the late 1800s. Edward is Prince Charming and Bella is Cinderella. Better summary inside!


**The 'real' Summary: This was an English assignment about narratives and stuff so I wrote about Cinderella in the Prince's POV (I like working POVs, read my other stuff and you'll see =D). The prince, of course, was named Edward (Edward Charming, to be exact). Cinderella was called Bella. The Queen is more like Alice than Esme and the King is a lot like what I imagine Carlisle would be saying if he were the one talking to Edward. Read it! It's Cinderella with a Twilight Twist!**

**AN: Most of what goes here was written above, so I'll try to keep it short (an achievement for me; I go on and **_**on**_** and **_**on**_**): I have written two other FFs: 'Emmett, FRIENDS, and the Lottery' (Humor) and 'The Ride to the Meadow (Edward's POV)' (Scenes from the 'hope-to-be-released, please-Stephenie-don't-do-this-to-us' Midnight Sun). Oh, and reviews anyone? (BTW, this is me keeping it short =D)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Twilight, Edward (I wish!) or Bella. I also do not own Cinderella, the Queen or the King. I don't own a lot of other stuff too, but we'll leave it at that.**

I crossed my room twice. "Edward, honestly! What's the big fuss you're stirring? It's a ball to meet your future wife. What's so complicated about that? That's how your father and I met and got married. That's how every Charming has met their future queen." I sighed. "I'm not trying to stir anything, Mother," I mumbled quietly. How could I explain that I didn't want to meet a woman in that way? It seemed so ridiculous to me that every girl in the kingdom and in surrounding kingdoms, even, would come, all dressed up and beautiful. For what? To be disappointed when I didn't choose them? Why couldn't I be like every other man in this kingdom! The ones that actually had a chance to meet someone and fall in love. How simple would that be!

My mother, the Queen, was still waiting for my answer. I was being exceptionally rude by ignoring her wishes. All she wanted was my happiness. I drew in a deep breath and tried to sound properly enthused. "Alright, Mother, you may hold the ball and I'll be a gracious host." "Oh wonderful," she exclaimed. She pulled me into her arms and gave me a peck on the cheek. "Alright, dear, so much to do! The decorations aren't even up yet and the announcements! Oh my, oh my…" she continued mumbling as she left the room and pulled the door shut. "Wonderful." I groaned, once I was alone.

I lay on my bed, contemplating what the ball would be like. Mother threw extravagant balls. A little too extravagant, in my opinion. As soon as I had come back from a mandatory studying trip from Ardenia, Mother had been all about finding me a wife. I shied away from the subject purposefully, because I knew how 'lovely wives' were found for royalty. Balls, the prince dancing with every maiden, and by the next day having chosen one to marry. That should be simple, choosing between 1,000 prospectees. Again, I wished to be normal.

It was at this moment that the duke knocked thrice and walked in. The Duke of Earle was Father's most trusted advisor. That had made him somewhat pompous, but he was a good man altogether. "The King would like to see you now. Quickly!" he added as he watched me drag myself from the bed. "Fine, I'm coming." I said, as I put on my coat hurriedly and crossed the threshold, down the hall, turned left, climbed the stairs, turned right and knocked the door to Father's study. "Enter," he said. "Sit down, son," he motioned for me once I was in the ornate room.

I sat down and waited patiently as he paused (trying to rearrange his thoughts, I guess). "Edward," he finally began, "I understand that this ball isn't exactly what you had in mind. I know that you would have liked a more private, personal marriage proposal. But son," he said when he noticed me nodding, "you have to understand that these are traditions. You cannot simply change the laws which are the foundation of who we are to suit your liking. I apologize son, but you must go with the way things are arranged." His expression was, indeed, apologetic.

I smiled to him. "Don't worry yourself, Father. I'll be fine." He smiled back, seeming to appreciate my effort to be flexible. "Yes," he agreed, "and who knows? Your mother and I have fallen in love. Perhaps, you will too." "Perhaps," I agreed, trying not to let sarcasm coat my words. Once a prince was married, there was no going back. If he even thought of any kind of separation, he would be disowned and sent to the streets as a beggar. Maybe… No, I couldn't do that to Mother or Father. My father and I kept talking about other trivial things, his plan obviously to keep my mind off the ball. When I left half an hour later, and had returned to my room, I found a formal attire on the wardrobe door and a note that read, 'Edward –Wear this for tomorrow. No ARGUING! Your mother'. I let out a deep breath. Make Mother happy, and you'll be happy, I reminded myself over and over again. As I was slowly drifting to sleep, I think I began believing myself.

I woke early to the sounds of the foreign decorators arriving. I looked outside the window. The sky was a beautiful purple color. The clock tower ding-donged and stated that the time was 5 at dawn. "Let the games begin," I muttered pathetically as I went though my daily morning preparations. When I was dressed and looked reasonably respectable, I went down the stairs to find some men speaking in French rapidly and in an agitated tone. I caught the gist of it soon enough. The orchids had been delivered, but they were a delicate shade of blue, not Mother's signature startling white. I was standing at the bottom step of the long, wide staircase and moved forward to join Pierre, Jacques and Jean. Pierre's face was flaming red in anger as he placed the blame on Jacques and Jean. "Non," Jacques said hotly and was about to continue when he caught sight of me. He quickly switched to a heavily-accented English. "Monsieur, zee orchids, zay have been mizplazed. I did not know what to --" I cut him off, "It's fine, Jacques. I'll break the bad news to my mother," I added jokingly. I smiled to reassure him that it would be fine. Jacques looked relieved and he and Jean shot Pierre smug smiles. Pierre scowled at them. I went to call Mother. She was sure to react badly. Mother did not like last-minute changes.

***

It was afternoon, and people were bustling in and out of the palace. Decorators, waiters, chefs, maids, royal advisors and, let's not forget, my cheek-pinching aunts ("My, how you've grown!"). My patience was wearing thin, but I tried to smile and be courteous to everyone. I heaved a sigh and escaped to the gardens, my personal sanctuary. I gazed at the elaborate shapes that the hedges had been sculpted into and kept sighing every now and then. I did not like this. I did not like that fact that I had to choose a wife, my equal in life, during a one-night ball. As I went back inside the castle I knew one thing for sure: The woman I was marrying would not be chosen at this ball no matter how much the Queen would insist.

The first few ladies that arrived had come with escorts, so, thankfully, I allowed them to dance alone. My mother, who was looking beautiful, was smiling brightly at every lady that came. My father merely looked uncomfortable. Balls and dances were not his forte. I inherited that from him. The King and Queens' dance ended every ball, and my father had always wondered why it even existed as a tradition. "The King and Queen should be entitled to a say in whether they want to dance or not, don't you think?" he'd grumble to me as a young boy. These words, of course, occur far from Mother's ears. For a king, Father was surprisingly afraid from Mother.

I had danced with twenty-five woman so far, smiling politely and asking a few questions starting with, "May I have this dance?" (In which the answer would be a giggle or a blush and an eager "Yes!") This went on for over an hour, and soon I had danced with every woman. To be honest, I saw no woman that was more interesting than the others. They all answered my soft inquiries with the same echoed answers, obviously thinking they were giving me the answers I wanted to hear. I was about to sneak off to the gardens again when a sight made me stop and gasp in shock. The most beautiful woman I have ever seen was standing at the entrance, looking confused and lost. I knew that beauty didn't tell you much about a person, but there was also something pure and _good _about this lady. I gazed at her in awe and wonder. She had chestnut, brown hair and brown sparkling eyes. She was the woman I wanted. To dance at least two dances with, at least. I moved forward to her and asked for the honor of dancing with me. She gave me a startled look and a slight blush appeared on her cheeks. She paused for a moment and then agreed hesitantly. My heart soared as I gently led her to the dance floor. Maybe this dance wouldn't be so bad after all.

***

Three hours later, we were walking in the garden. We had spoken about every subject known to man (or woman). I have never talked so much! The feeling made me want to float. Suddenly I saw her look over to the clock tower. It was four minutes to midnight. I paid it no heed and I eagerly turned back to her. "So your father was a –", but I never continued that sentence since she started running away. "Wait! Where are you going?" I ran after her, but she had a head start even though she was tripping at almost every step and was wearing heels. They were beautiful slippers made of glass that perfectly fit her small feet. "Wait, please!" I shouted after her.

"I need to leave!" then she stopped and looked at me intently for a moment, "I will never forget tonight."

"But, I don't even know your name!"

"It's Bella," she told me over her shoulder. She continued running but tripped again going down the stairs. This time, my heart nearly stopped. Was she hurt? No, but she did lose a slipper. She didn't give it a second thought and continued running as I knelt down and picked up my last reminder of Bella. Fierce determination set in as I listened to the final dong that signaled midnight. I would find Bella. By tomorrow, I would propose to the woman of my dreams.

***

This was the 93rd house we had been to. There had been no Bella to be found. We had ordered that every woman come to try on the slipper, because I was reasonably certain that no one would have the same small feet Bella had. And even if they did, I would be able to identify the real Bella anyway. I sat in the carriage as they went from house to house. Soon, after the 122nd house, the Duke ran out. "Sir, you might want to see a certain lady in this house. I believe you've already been introduced."

I rushed to the door and saw Bella in a ratty dress covered in cinders and soot. She still looked amazingly beautiful. I bent to my knees and I saw tears forming in her eyes. Hopefully, tears of happiness. "Bella," I began, "I fell in love with you from the moment I saw you. Will you marry me?" "Yes, I will," she whispered, tears flowing openly while three other women gazed at us reproachfully. I didn't give them a spare look as I held Bella's hand and lead her to the carriage. We rode in comfortable silence. There were years for talking. This was the moment we would truly cherish. As we reached the castle, I went first and helped Bella out. She was still wearing the glass slippers, I noticed. Afraid she would trip (and because I wanted to), I put my arm around her waste and pulled her close to my side. "Welcome home, dear Bella," I said as I smiled at her. She smiled at me, looked at the castle, and then back at me. Her smile grew wider and was prettier than ever. I was finally complete.

**Waddya think? Was it good? I know there aren't much 'Twilight' references, but this is good, in my humble opinion. Review, please, and tell me what you think.**


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